


Mapping the stars

by Trashy_Pineapple



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, i misspelled nathanael once as nathaniel and then stuck to it sorry abt that, they're childhood friends and adrien has a twin sister, weirdly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-02-02 04:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12719571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trashy_Pineapple/pseuds/Trashy_Pineapple
Summary: or, the one where Marinette spends some time with her grandmother and accidentally befriends the stars (read, the Agreste twins.)





	1. uneven hems and starry eyes

**Author's Note:**

> y'all, i've had this on my computer for so long... rip.  
> This is my first try at mlb and english isnt my first language. this is also unbeta'd so it might suck? i hope you enjoy anyways! :D

When Marinette Dupain-Cheng was six years old and her parents took her to visit her Lao Lao, she cried so badly she felt some of her freckles be washed away by her tears. Standing on some street of the fourth _arrondissement_ with red rimmed eyes and her grandma's shaky hand holding her shoulder, she was afraid her parents’ car would never return and her heart would break like the mug her mom dropped that same morning.

Three hours later –once Lao Lao had wiped her face, arguing all her freckles were still there and that her parents would be back in two weeks -Marinette found herself sprawled in her grandmother´s studio, watching her overlap pieces of the softest pink she had ever seen while munching on some store bought cookies.

“What are you making there, Lao Lao?” she sputtered through cookie filled cheeks.

“A dress, baobao,” she said, “Marais is full of designers and shops, and of such lovely people sometimes you can´t help but feel inspired.”

The toddler ´s features twisted in a frown as she ventured, “Wait a minute… inspire? A dress?” she scrunched her nose before repeating, “Inspire?”

Suddenly her grandma was standing up, needles sprawled all over a desk that seemed older than France itself. The old woman approached Marinette to lie by her side on the carpet, “Yes, inspire. Do you know what I mean by that?” she paused, as if waiting for an actual response before moving on, “to inspire means to feed a part of yourself to someone. When something inspires you, it becomes part of your vey soul, Mari. It means something within you loved it so much it decided to keep it, and when people have a heart big enough - _kind enough_ ,-they decide to share that love. To love and be loved in return, that’s the most blissful accomplishment we can be granted, and while our lives depend on our decisions and whether we have enough bravery to face them, I’m afraid happiness relies simply on fate.”

Awestruck, she simply stared at her grandmother. She raised her small and chubby hand and caressed Lao Lao´s right cheekbone, the wrinkles there stretched by a gentle smile, “And what’s fate, Lao Lao? What’s happiness to you?”

Her grandmother's eyes softened as she said, “Have you ever heard about the red string of fate, ma petite poulette? An old Chinese legend says that it’s tied to your ankle and it bounds you to someone who is meant to help you in some time or place. It can stretch and tangle, but never breaks. _That’s_ faith, Marinette. Now, picture your heart. Imagine you’re holding it,” she stared at the young child, watching as she cupped nothing but air with a fierce look on her eyes, “and now think of your favorite dress.

Tell me, baobao, does your heart feel the same? Is it pounding? Does the little thing sing for you? Happiness cannot be defined, but it’s as temporary as it is easy to find. To me, happiness is the feeling of satin between my fingers. It’s having to count your freckles one by one to make sure they’re still there. It’s biting into a peach and having juice drip down my chin, or learning slang from the kids in the park. _Happiness is a decision for me_. So then, what’s happiness to you, Marinette?”

A child then, an extremely smart and witty one but a child none the less, Marinette’s mind drifted to when she was four years old and her dad had tried to teach her how to swim. How awkward limbs and complaints of water in her ears ended up with her curled up in towels, her mother combing with gentle fingers through her wet tangles as she coughed salt. She thought of this very same house, how the sunlight poured into the endless rooms, all of them full of fabric and photographs and about that subtle smell of cinnamon that lingered on her mother’s skin even after years of having moved out.

And maybe it was the softness of her grandmother’s skin, or the single sparrow chirping somewhere she couldn’t pinpoint, but her chest felt two sizes smaller, heart so tight she wanted nothing more than to poke at it and let it overflow, so she did. There, in an old house too big for an old lonely woman and a small naïve child, Marinette Dupain-Cheng made her love costless, too warm to have a price set.

0000

 Marinette had two weeks to spend before her parents came back, and Lao Lao was a busy woman. Two days after her arrival, the two of them had fallen into an easy routine (read: Lao Lao's usual routine plus a six year old). Marinette would wake up when her grandma did, complaining about it being too early but getting up and about for the day.

She would brush her teeth and hair after breakfast and put on the attire her mother had readied for that day. Then her grandmother would put her hair in twin braids and lace them with leftover fabric, arguing it looked ‘cute’, and take her on errands. They'd visit a market where they’d get food for the day where her granny would retell stories from her life in China, and sometimes they’d walk to a crafts store, where Lao Lao would buy enough fabric to make a cape for both Atlas and the weight of his shoulders. Afterwards, as the streets busied at a painfully slow rhythm, Marinette would skip her way along her grandmother towards home, where they’d spend the rest of the day either at the studio or goofing around in the kitchen, attempting at one of her father’s recipies.

Marinette wouldn’t say the “routine” was boring, because it really wasn’t. She understood old people were methodical, and her grandma had helped her make a dress for herself that week. The hem was crooked, and it was missing more than a few stitches, but it held up nicely and she’d made it herself so of course it was her favorite. But she still couldn’t help but feel tired of it. She missed the nameless girl she would sometimes play with at the park, and she missed Felix, the ugly one-eyed cat she fed on her way to school. She missed her play dates with Ivan, the kid that lived across the street and whose mom would let them paint and sketch, and she longed for her blanket, the one with her name stitched. She couldn’t remember a time where summer had seemed so tedious.

Just a few days ago, Marinette had found a name for her heart. Now, as she lay on the floor of her grandma’s boutique drawing her newest collection of dresses with a pink crayon and craving her own home, the young girl would hear her heart crack for the very first time the moment the shop’s door bell rang and terribly mismatched steps echoed against the hard wood.

Her grandmother had stood up from the floral patterned sofa from where she’d been watching Marinette make a clumsy attempt at a woman’s body and walked slowly toward the main entrance. Lao Lao hadn’t said a word, just sent a meaningful glance towards Marinette, message clear: hurry up and come along.

She’d slowly done so, walking in small strides and a hideous yellow crayon held between fingers sticky from the heat. They’d been going down a flight of stairs, towards the boutique, when Marinette dropped the World’s ugliest crayon. Her grandmother didn’t seem to mind—or care,—too focused on getting to whoever the newcomer was, and her pace only seemed to quicken. Ugly or not, it was hers, so Marinette stayed back and crouched down, reaching for the crayon rolling downwards.

The stairs were made out of dusty wood, and as her grandma descended, following circular motions, Marinette followed a yellow crayon at a slower pace. Eventually both her and the crayon reached the final step, and she could now properly grasp the it, fumbling with her dress in order to tuck it into a pocket she had recently added with the help of Lao Lao. She walked through a dimly lit hallway full of flowers wilting in expensive-looking vases and heavy curtains, and pushed the crystal door that led toward the store itself.

Once she was finally able to safely tuck away the crayon,she raised her head at the call of her name. Lifting her gaze, Marinette realized her grandmother’s friendly chatter wasn’t directed at her, but at the group of newcomers. There, in the middle of the golden-lit room and dust particles stood a young woman with a pair of children. She was maybe in her early thirties, and wore a huge black sunhat. She was wearing a soft blue summer dress that matched what both of the kids were wearing, and she took off a pair of sunglasses once she spotted Marinette. She was very beautiful, green eyes and blond hair cascading around her shoulders like honey. Each of her hands rested atop one of her kids’ shoulder, and all three of them were smiling. They were oddly charming and ridiculously alike.

Marinette was staring at the kids, perhaps her age and most definitely twins. They were a boy and a girl, both with soft and fluffy blond hair, much like their mother’s. The boy was shorter than his sister, and wore a white shirt and blue shorts that matched his mother’s dress. His eyes were green, a deeper shade than the older woman’s own, and he was grinning boyishly, a walking mess of tousled hair and bouncing excitement.

His sister, however, seemed tamer. Her posture was perfectly straight, expression serious but it was obvious how she struggled to keep a grin from blooming completely. Her hair was messy, like her brother’s, and she wore a short sleeved dress that matched the rest of her family. Her eyes were a deep almost purple blue, and although they seemed cold at first glance, Marinette could feel the warmth eradiate from her. Her socks reached her thighs, but one had slipped slightly below her knee. As she bent down to fix it, her mother spoke up, visibly startling her.

“ _Bonjour, Madame,”_ began the woman with a stupidly soft voice, “my name is Ellena Agreste. I believe I had a meeting arranged today with you to discuss mass production, _non?”_

The young boy whined, and the woman let out a soft gasp, “ _Oh, mes petits minous!_ How could I forget? This are my children, Adrien—,” she said as she patted the boys head and smoothed his locks, “And Agathe,” she concluded, rubbing circles on the girls back, “I hope them tagging along won’t be an issue? They behave marvelously, I promise!”

“ _N’y a pas de problème, Madame!_ My little Marinette is staying with me at the moment as well— perhaps they can all play for a while? There’s plenty of room upstairs, they’re free to follow Mari if you don’t mind.”

The woman  _beamed_ , smile bright and a warm bluch coating her cheeks. She was a walking miracle, and Marinette loved her already. “Splendid!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands together.

Marinette hadn’t had a say in whether she actually wanted to be around the _starry pair_ , as she’d named the twins in her head. It made sense, even. Both so alive, so bright, something hopeful burning beneath their eyes; yet also so far away, ethereal in a completely foreign way. They were odd, and Marinette Dupain-Cheng had never in her life dealt with children like them. Not the weird nasty Bourgoise girl from the playground, or the red cheeked boy that played with her when she had visited Lao Lao in Shangai, back when she still spent most of her time there. Not once in the almost seven years she’d been walking planet Earth had she encountered creatures as impossible as the Agreste.

Lao Lao had invited Madame Ellena up for coffee, and so the three of them had been put in _the rug room_. It was a big wooden room (walls, floor, door, _everything_ ) that was usually warmer than the rest of the house. The floor was completely covered by a Persian rug her mother had gotten her grandma years before Marinette was born and the windows stood from ground to ceiling, high and always bright, sunlight streaming through. As a child, she never quite managed to grasp the true purpose of the room, and with time she just concluded that perhaps there wasn’t one for it. Lao Lao’s house was so big, many rooms didn’t need a purpose at all, they just existed. A batch of sugar cookies shaped like ladybugs and bees lay between the three kids, the twins sitting across the young girl.

Adrien munched awkwardly on a bee cookie, licking at the glace and putting a hand under his chin that catched the crumbles. His sister, Agathe, sipped on pink lemonade and stared wide-eyed at Marinette, ocasionally glaring at Adrien and frowning in disgust when he dared lick crumbles off his palm. She hadn’t uttered a word in the whole visit, but she had the face of someone waiting to ask something, silent question lingering in her eyes.

“So… what school do you guys go to?”

Adrien seemed startled, perhaps having made a silent agreement that he’d only eat cookies and shocked at Marinette’s lack of comprehension for it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist and readied himself to speak, “We don’t!” he declared. “We are homeschooled, you see. Papa says it’s because it’s safer, and Mama says it’s because we’re too bright.”

 _Like stars,_ she thought. A smile bloomed on Agathe’s face, and then she spoke. “That’s what I thought too!”

Her voice was soft, like her mother’s. Her eyes were now alight, and suddenly she and Adrien looked even more alike. Marinette was thankful for her slip, because now the other girl was crawling towards her, smile broadening. She settled next to Marinette and reached for her hand, looking back to Adrien, who shot her an understanding glance, tooth gaped smile broad like hers.

She then turned around, and her eyes were now a warm blue, the previous icy look of them gone. “What was your name?”

“Marinette,” she called back. She was a smart girl, clever when it came to people, but the twins were like the changing seasons and they were leaving her out of breath.

In a heartbeat, Adrien was standing up, walking towards them. He stood beside his kneeling sister, hand upon her head, as she said, “Well, Marinette… I have a feeling we’ll be a pretty dazzling cluster!” and in a matter of a day, Marinette had found children that belonged in the sky, hair made from honey and magic and light, eyes too alive to be anything but cosmic. She had found kids that could shoot into space at any moment, never to be seen again, and they had decided they would reach for her hand if that ever happened because in the end, girls like Marinette belonged among the stars tooand it would not surprise absolutely anyone. She had found kids who, despite their own dazzling personalities, had seen through her messy bangs and decided that girls like Marinette belonged with the stars too afterall.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so like. i know Marinette's grandma lives in Shangai but let's ignore that??? please??? i also intend for them to grow up QUICKLY but i have like. no plan for this? so we'll see! i also have an idea for another fic, and one in progress so lol let's see where this leads. Thanks for reading and feel free to pinpoint stuff and mistakes or ask for anything you'd like to see! you can find me [here](http://ducktocks.tumblr.com/)  
> Marinette's behaviour as a seven year old (bc i dont remember my own train of thought at the time) is a 100% based upon my little sister's, so if it seems kinda weird well... that's because my sister is one hell of a kid. also, yeah, the agreste shall remain a quirky pair of space nerds until i die :)


	2. Onion tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they meet someone new. (9 yrs old)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this super fast??? tomorrow is the anniversary of the mexican revolution and my bday, and i dont have class so i wanna sleep a lot lol. i hope you all enjoy!

When Marinette was nine years old she tripped on a staircase and banged her head so bad it blew up. Bleeding and with no one to fawn over her injury, the ceiling of her house changed colors, stars dancing for her like the figures seen on her grandmother’s new T.V.

16 stitches later –voice raspy from tears and face swollen— her mother settled next to her on her bed, telling her she loved her so much France couldn’t fit her heart. She wasn’t crying but her eyes were shiny. Her father just stared at her from the doorframe, a single tear escaping him. He had kissed the crown of her hair, and apologized a thousand times for not being there to avoid the incident. She had flicked his nose, and called him silly. “ _But Papa, even if you had been here, what could’ve you done?_ ” she had quipped.

Marinette didn’t like crying at all. It made her eyelids feel heavy and her cheeks get stiff, but she hated it the most when it involved her parents. Her mum would scrunch up her nose and the wrinkles at her forehead would look like an angry face, and her dad would try his best not to shed tears so he would end up frowning like a constipated old man. Her dad looked like he’d been cutting onions. All three of them looked like they’d been cutting onions.

And then the Agreste came to visit and of course Adrien and Agathe started crying, both like faes.

They’d been best friends for a long time, and now Marinette knew all kinds of things about the twins. She even kept a list:

  * The twins hang out with Chloe, the rude girl from the park, and they genuinely like her because she’s nice  _and fake_ around them.
  *  Adrien is shorter than most kids their age, including his sister, and he really hates it. When they met Marinette’s friends from school, he cried because Kim asked him if he was Agathe’s "baby" brother.
  *  Agathe likes to comb Adrien’s hair, so she makes him carry a purple comb in his pocket.
  *  They are both _huge_ crybabies.



She was tired of people crying. She didn’t understand why they even needed to cry, her head was still in one piece, wasn’t it? Mr. Agreste had brought her a sketchbook, and Ellena had left some flowers by her bed. Unnecessary, but she made sure to thank them. The whole family was matching, like they always did, both the kids wearing yellow overalls and brown boots. Agathe’s hair was flying everywhere, and Adrien’s sticked out awkwardly at the back of his head. They were both crying, and they had jumped on her bed as soon as Sabine had let them in. Right now Adrien called her clumsy, while Agathe combed her fingers through her hair, careful not to come near the wound.  
Their parents approached the bed, and Mr. Agreste spoke, “Marinette, we’re glad to see you’re doing better. Your parents left us quite worried when they informed us about the incident.”

Ellena then sat at the foot of the bed, delicate hands grabbing her ankle and hair catching the light. “You gave us quite the scare, young lady,” she confessed. “Agathe wouldn’t stop asking about you, and Adrien asked me to go buy you flowers this morning. They kept ranting about how painful it must’ve been, and exclaiming ’16! She got 16!’ all day long, but I told them you were brave and strong. Wooden stairs could never beat a stubborn head like yours, could they?” Her words unsettled her, but she felt a sense of pride rise within her chest nonetheless.

“I hope so! The flowers are really pretty, though,” she turned to Adrien and Agathe, now standing together with dry cheeks, “Thank you, losers,” she said warmly.

Agathe laughed, and clicked her tongue. “What are best friends for?”

“You guys are the losers! I’m the coolest,” exclaimed Adrien.

His sister glared at him, “Sure you are, sweet prince.”

“How funny, Agathe!" He then turned to Marinette. "When are you free of house arrest, anyways?” he complained.

“I don’t know, Blue Charming. I guess I could ask mum right now? I’ve been here for a while now and I’m fine anyway.”

:.:

Sabine agreed to let her out for the day. Their parents stayed home, probably chatting about things too complicated for people who still believed in the monster hiding under their beds, so the three of them marched towards the park near her house.

The heat of the afternoon showed to be too much for the starry pair, who often took damage from even the lightest of sunrays, a fact discovered on the trip to the beach they had taken a few months prior. Both Agathe and Marinette had discovered they were prone to freckles, and Adrien had gotten sunburn the size of Russia on his back. The twins tucked their overalls up to their knees and flopped into a pile of grass by the side of thepark's main path, arguing they were too tired to carry on and "would perish" if Marinette insisted on it.

"You'll have blood on your hands!" Adrien had screeched.

Marinette laughed, and flopped on top of them. When they inevitably complained, she exclaimed, “Stop being crybabies! I’d be lighter than both of you weren’t it for how I tower above you!”

After intense minutes of bantering, the kids settled for discussing what they’d done in the week they hadn’t seen each other, and Agathe started talking animatedly about this new movie she had watched during the weekend. “They danced, and spoke French in certain bits of the movie! Their accents were terrible, but it was so _sic_ k _!_ I wish I were a missing Russian princess too,” she concluded dreamily. With her soft skin, dreamlike features and wide blue eyes, Marinette wouldn’t be surprised if she did end up being one.

Adrien, in the other hand, started ranting about how sad it must’ve been for Pluto to stop being a planet to instead become a dwarf one. “Imagine having it all, yeah? You’re round and you orbit the sun, so you’re a planet. You’re 2/3 a planet, so you're _kind_ of a planet. But then, turns out that because you’re not a BULLY to your surroundings you’re no longer a planet? You’re now a dwarf planet, and why? Oh, just because you _almost_ made it but you’re a shorty and didn’t make the cut? Ridiculous and embarrassing and, and, and-- and disappointing! That's probably what Alexander the Great felt like on his deathbed, sheer anger and disappointment because he almost completed his life task, he just died like a _loser_. I'm tired, Pluto is a dwarf planet like Haumea and Eris and I'm supposed to be _fine_ with it? _That’s disrespectful_!” he screeched, throwing his hands up and flopping back. “Imagine workind towards something for almost 250 years and it literally not mattering because you’re not a planet, and the only reason anyone even knows about you is because you were cut short.”

Both girls stared at him. “That’s deep, kid,” a voice said. There, in a bench not far away from where they had flopped down, sat a boy wearing a cap. Startled, Adrien sat up, gaze bewildered. The boy approached them, and sat next to Agathe, offering a hand at no one in particular. “Name’s Lahiffe. Nino Lahiffe.”

Agathe let out a whistle, then clasped his hand and shook it, “Nice James Bond reference. I'm Agathe Agreste,” she said, eyes glinting.

The boy’s smirk turned into a boyish grin. “Oh good, you got it! You go, girl!” He then turned towards the other two and gestured at them. “And what’re your names? Do you like James Bond too? You kinda seem like a nerd, but that's cool.”

Adrien scowled at the other boy but remained quiet. Nino's face seemed torn between amusement and annoyance. "Oh, c'mon! Cat's got your tongue? I didn't mean to be rude, I said it was cool! I'm kind of a nerd too, but I'm not that much into history. I'm more into music."

Finally, Adrien decided to speak up. "Fine," he relented. "I'm Adrien. I don't know, I've never watched a Bond movie! And  _for the record_ , I'm not a history nerd."

He paused. 

"That's Agathe, I like space better." Nino let out a surprised laugh and hummed, then motioned at Marinette.

"And you?"

She fixed her gaze from Adrien to Nino and sighed. “Marinette. They’re okay, I guess,” she said.

The boy widened his eyes in disbelief, “Whaaaaaat? What do you mean "okay", Blue Bell? There’s also books, and the author was super cool!You should read them, I own them. Do you want me to lend them to you? Do you have a favorite book? We should all be friends, y'all!"


	3. The less they know, the better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the twins are now 15, and decide they wanna have a blast. (14 yo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! i hope you all had a lovely christmas :) i realized i had forgotten to specify this, but the age on the chapter's summary is Marinette's and like in canon, Marinette is a year younger than most of her classmates. I made her birthday be on November and the twins' on April. This chapter will be divided in two, and idk if block parties are a thing in france??? but uh, i hope this isnt too out of character? Marinette is crushing on Adrien already bc most ppl start crushing at that age, and the twins try to go a party at age 15 bc that's the age most of my friends started doing that stuff at. I personally never did, but I'm under the impression there's alcohol involved in them? idk how i feel abt that bc i'm also a year younger than my classmates and friends and it honestly is pretty harsh when you're on your early teens? idk, anyway, this will take two chapters, so the actual party will be next chapter! I'll get that up as soon as possible, and thank you for your support! it means a lot. sorry for the long note, and enjoy.

When the twins turned fifteen in the early spring, Gabriel arranged a fancy dinner for them. It had been late at night, and aside from Marinette there wasn’t a single other teenager but Chloe. Adrien had been tucked into a suit, and _he looked good_ , she noted absentmindedly.

It’d been a year since he’d had his growth spurt, and now he towered above most boys. Marinette sometimes recalls all the times Agathe would call him ‘prince charming’ or something of the likes just to mock him, and how Adrien would flush in anger and stomp his feet, hair sticking up and everywhere, his mouth twisted in a childish pout that made his many tooth gaps visible. She thinks it’s ironic, how that memory seems to be at odds with the young boy that sways with his sister to Chopin, their shoes clicking against the hard marble as old men clasp their father’s shoulder and congratulate him on their fine manners.

Elena is sited in a corner with an old woman as she cards her fingers through Chloe’s hair, the girl with her eyes closed and a small smile grazing her lips. In the many years Marinette has known Chloe, she’s figured out that Chloe is hopelessly obsessed with the twins because she’s in love with them. She reckoned it’d be hard to blame her for it –it is impossible to shake Agathe’s warm hand and not fall for Adrien’s quirky smiles too. She faced earlier that year that at the very least, she and Chloe shared that in common.  Chloe blinked her eyes open, raising her gaze and catching Marinette staring. She stared back, lips now turned downwards and features hard.

Once, when they were 12, Agathe begged Gabriel would let them attend public school like everybody else. Adrien argued Marinette and Chloe did, none of the two buying the ‘ _it’s for your safety_ ’ tale their mother fed them. They’d been so insistent that Gabriel had reluctantly reached an agreement with them, and that same year the kids had enrolled to a private school halfway through the year. Agathe, absolutely static, had arranged for a sleepover and invited Chloe, Marinette and her new friends from school –Rose, Juleka and Alix. She remembers Agathe beaming at her after having hit it off pretty well with the girls, but she also remembers Chloe fighting with Alix and rushing to the bathroom. No one had followed after her, Agathe frowning with concern but assuring her friends Chloe just needed to splash herself to cool down. Marinette hadn’t bought it, and decided to run after her.

She reached the main bathroom of the floor and knocked. When no response came, she reached for the knob and pushed until she heard a click. She cracked the door open and peaked inside. There, sited on top of the sink was Chloe, legs swinging back and forth with the calmest expression Marinette had seen on her since she’d met her. She then realized Chloe had an arm outstretched, and after pushing the door a bit further, Marinette could make out a head of blond hair. She carelessly thrusted the door open, spooking the boy who flinched and sent something flying. Marinette took in the scene before her, Adrien standing motionlessly before her, mouth agape. Chloe had frozen in place, her arm just now falling limply to her side. The object Adrien had sent flying over –a marker – was rolling on the tiles of the bathroom.

With sudden force, it struck Marinette that Chloe had been feeling genuinely bad, and Adrien had been trying to help cheer her up by doodling astronauts and corgies on her forearm. Chloe, coming back to her senses, hopped down from the sink, the fabric of her pajamas making loud ruffling noises. She stared at the girl before her, face surprisingly blank for a twelve year old. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she acknowledged. She crouched to pick the orange marker and handed it to Adrien, muttering a soft ‘ _Merci beaucoup’_ before wordlessly walking out of the place and back to the slumber party with a steely gaze, one very much similar to the one she’s wearing now.

Marinette merely shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders. The old woman stops mid-sentence to say something to Chloe. She then raises her head and searches with her gaze until it lands on Marinette. She then breaks into a huge smile, and waves at the girl. Elena soon turns and waves too, smiling the small yet warm way she’s always done. Marinette is confused as to who the woman is, but she raises her hand and waves back. The waltz’s comes to an end, and Marinette stands from the chaise where she’d been sprawled and heads to the kitchen to find her mother, who had gone to grab a glass of water. A young and sort of lanky young man had offered to go get it for her, but Sabine had told him it was fine and chuckled after assuring him she’d like some fresh air too. The man had seemed hesitant, but he ended up leaving with a quiet ‘ _Dites-moi si vous avez besoin de quelque chose, madame.’_

She’s by the staircase and about to disappear around the corner when another man asks her if he can help her. “Ah, _oui…_ is it possible you could tell me if you’ve seen Madame Cheng, _s’il vous plait?”_ The man leads her to the kitchen, where her mother is taking small sips of water. She thanks him, and walks in. Her mother turns and smiles, putting her glass down. “Marinette, is everything alright? I was about to go back. Is your father still sitted next to Monsieur Capaldi?” she questions.

The young girl sits on a stool next to a marble counter. “Everything’s right, _maman_. And no, Monsieur Agreste approached him a while ago and he’s since joined a conversation with some other men. They seem to be enjoying themselves, so don’t worry.”

Her mother hummed. “Well, then. I’ll head back. I told Elena I’d be back and chat with Madame Bourgeois and her. Promise you’ll join us after you’re done?”

She hummed, much like her mother had done seconds ago, and Sabine walked off with a low chuckle. She took big gulps from her glass, and some spilled from her mouth onto her chin, dripping slowly onto her dress. Cheeks filled with water, Marinette swallowed it and barked out a laugh at the mess she’d made. She stood up and strided to the counter, quickly grabbing paper towels to clean up. Agathe had told her it would be formal. ‘ _Dad’s orders_ ,’ she’d said, rolling her eyes. Marinette personally didn’t see the inconvenience, and had instead taken the chance to wear a pink suit she’d worked on under the supervision of Monsieur Agreste. Right now though, the fabric sported dark spots on the sleeves and crotch. She sighed, dabbing at it with as much gentleness as she could muster.

“You looked good out there, why did you suddenly go shy on us?” a voice questioned. She raised her head and stared at Adrien, who smirked at her with a raised eyebrow. She straightened up, pulling the jacket down from where it’d ridden upward a little bit. “Adrien…” she sighed. “I came looking for maman and then decided to grab some water, but I–” she stopped, considering her next words, “I _spilled_ a little bit and now I’m trying to dry myself,” she concluded.

The boy hummed, and carded a hand through his hair. In all the time they’d known each other, he’d never ridded himself from that habit. After his father got him and Agathe into modeling, both had learnt to be careful when it came to appearances but Adrien managed to get away with pretty much anything as long as he looked impeccable. Marinette walked towards him, the soft thud of her steps echoing through the room, and arranged his hair so it was back in place. She swiftly noted that perhaps Agathe and her were the main reasons he got away with being himself.

She was glad. She thinks Adrien changing would resemble the death of a star.

He smiles softly at her. “This is why dad likes you so much,” he whispers. They’re close enough that Marinette feels his breath on the bridge of her nose. She blushes, and backs off. “Oh yeah? Because I don’t let his son look like the heathen he is?” she quipps, and he laughs, deep and wholesome.

 “C’mon, Mari,” he says, “I’m the cutest with messed up hair and everyone knows it.” _That’s the problem_ , she thinks. Boys like Adrien have the flaw of being unknowingly unfair to others. Boys like Adrien, who have faces beautiful enough to fit with every description of Apollo and golden hearts bright enough to make greedy people like her want more and more of them, and that’s when the unfairness strikes them, that’s when people realize they can’t have more than what they’re given because asking for more is too much. And she thinks, wholeheartedly, that that’s where the stark contrast between him and Agathe lies. Agathe, who’s now waltzing with the rich and handsome and 5 years older son of one of her father’s associates, all dolled up in a white dress, her back bare and soft. Agathe, who is unfair in all her beauty; Agathe, who tries to be as unreachable as she’s alluring; Agathe, who –unlike her brother– isn’t oblivious to her charm but unapologetic.

Marinette hates it that the Agreste were the ones to teach her that beauty is rarely soft. She hates that she sees Adrien laugh unabashedly at a joke Nino made and she has to stop laughing because her chest starts constricting with want –want because Adrien laughs the ways faes do in fairytales, he laughs the way bells tinkle, and sometimes Marinette is struck which just how beautiful he is. It’s always been an odd thing, how boys at her school –except Ivan– hate to be called beautiful, yet Adrien accepts it graciously. People call Adrien beautiful the way Madame Mendeleiv says the Earth is round: a statement. Marinette had never crushed on anyone and just barely started getting familiar with the feeling last year. They’d been lounging on the terrace of her house, Agathe sipping on lemonade and reading _Corazón Coraza_ by Mario Benedetti out loud while Marinette combed through Adrien’s hair. Adrien had taken up Mandarin, and Agathe Spanish since they were young. Agathe would often read poetry with that soft voice of hers, and Marinette would ask for translations now and then.

“Porque eres linda desde el pie hasta el alma,” she begins, and Marinette understands so far. _Because you’re beautiful from your foot to your soul,_ she translates, and her combing slows down a bit. “Porque eres buena desde el alma a mí,” Agathe carries on. _Because you’re good from your soul to me_ , and her hands still as she stares at the sleepy boy in front of her. “Porque te escondes dulce en el orgullo, pequeña y dulce,” Agathe says, and raises her eyes to stare at Marinette with piercing eyes. _Because you hide your sweet self in pride, small and sweet_ , and when Adrien throws his head back to ask why she stopped, Marinette replies numbly, mind heavy with the knowledge that Adrien Agreste is the kind of boy Marinette has perhaps always known to love.

“Marinette?” a voice calls, and she flinches when someone waves a hand in front of her face. Adrien smiles sheepishly, “a penny for your thoughts?”

“Why didn’t you invite anyone from your fancy snobbish school?” she questions. Adrien seems taken aback by the question, like he wasn’t expecting that. He closes his mouth, and presses his lips tight. “Father wouldn’t allow it, he wanted this to be a dinner with family and people we care for.” She stared at him. “Bullshit.”

“Marinette!” he chastised. “Language, princess!” She sighed, unaffected by the term of endearment as she proceeded, “Adrien Agreste, I am not going to apologize for stating the facts. Forgive my language or whatever –would bullocks be better?– but you can’t just tell me that bunch of old men who _I know_ are only investors and associates are here because you all care for them.”

He stared at her, eyes going wide before weakly replying, “Perhaps we do?”  She stared at him, unimpressed. “Is that a question or a statement, Agreste? That perhaps can turn defiance into doubt pretty quickly,” she retorted. He stood up straighter, and closed his eyes as he took in a deep breath. He blinked at her, eyes alight. “Perhaps we do, Dupain-Cheng.”

“Even when the twenty year old disgusting son of one of those mummies keeps ogling Agathe?” she asked. His eyes bulged out as he shrieked, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng!” She laughed and snorted a bit. “Sorry, so– ” another deep chuckle, “—Sorry, I just had to. Your dad would lose his mind and that guy his head if that ever did happen. I think I just gave myself chills, ew. Anyways, to the point, why isn’t your weird friend from that snobbish school here?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had a really nice nose, she noted. “First of all, it’s not _snobbish_ and second of all, dad doesn’t let us have friends over. Besides, I told you, dad managed the guest list for this thing. And he’s not weird!” he exclaimed.

Marinette stalked off to throw away the now crumbled paper towel and quickly rinsed her now empty glass. “He is,” she said as she stalked past him. she then flicked his nose, “And kinda cute now that I think about it.” She left giggling, and Adrien caught up to her just as they turned around the corner, joining her on her conversation with her maman and other ladies.

.:.

Turns out the old lady was actually Nina Bourgeois, top fashion designer, mother of the major and Chloe’s grandmother. “What a nice pair of fine _ados_ ,” she said, quickly turning to Elena, “my dearest Lena, I assume he’s yours, right? And oh my, Madame Cheng what striking eyes your daughter has! Just look at her hands, and her figure! Like a flower in full bloom, has she considered going into modeling?”

Sabine laughs and Marinette follows, although somewhat awkwardly. Elena, in the other hand, is perfectly serious when she says, “I know! I’ve tried roping her into it, but she won’t let me,” she says, honest to God pouting and glaring at Sabine. Her mother, however, seems unfazed by this and laughs warmly. “That’s because my dearest Marinette wouldn’t like that. My daughter shows deeper interest in fashion itself, and I’m sure she’ll be a great designer if I let her focus on it. But that’s what I seek, greatness and success for her in things she chooses _herself_. I won’t stop you from asking her, Madame Bourgeois, I too believe my baby is very beautiful, just like your granddaughter!” At that, Chloe raises her face. She stares at Sabine, eyes wide with disbelief as her mother carries on, “She has such a beautiful heart! The other day she visited our bakery and when I told her we were out of the pastry she wished, she offered to stick by and help bake them! She ended up covered in flour, you see, baking is no easy task, but she kept her head up and her rumpled hair and pretty eyes seemed all the more lovely!”

Chloe smiles, and Marinette notes it’s a watery smile. The other girl then moves her eyes so she’s gazing at Marinette, and she feels compelled to smile back, making a quick remark. “Indeed, maman. Chloe is a very pretty girl.” Ellena smiles, and something in Nina’s already rounded features softens. “Sit with me, Adrien,” his mother says, and Marinette lets go of his arm. She looks behind her shoulder, where her dad is waving for her to come over. She excuses herself and walks there, where his dad and Monsieur Agreste introduce her to the other men around them.

They smell subtly like wine, the scent barely there and only fruity. She shakes the hands of at least 5 men, all ravishing in opulence. A middle aged man with dark eyes and curly hair presents himself as Matheo Kurtzberg and the last name strikes her familiar. The man compliments her suit, and says he likes how the youth seems to be getting bolder, empowering themselves. She laughs and thanks him, and then Gabriel asks where she got it, a knowing smirk at his lips. “It’s handmade, and this stitching would never be the work of a machine,” he says. They all gape when she says it’s her own work and that Monsieur Agreste was kind enough to supervise her work throughout the process of making it –all but her dad, who beams with pride. Monsieur Kurtzberg stares at her, and then says, “I have a nephew around your age. His name’s Nathaniel, and I think you two would get along pretty well,” he pauses, then addresses her dad, “If that’s okay with you, Sir. I think their shared interest in art might help fuel their potential. I’d like it very much if he got to call a young lady as brilliant as Marinette his friend.”

Marinette laughs, suddenly feeling like she’s no longer in control of the conversation. She inclines her head lightly, and shows them a thin lipped smile before saying, “Yes, I’d like that, _Monsieur_. I’m sure your nephew is excellent company. I’ll keep the offer in mind so it can follow through as soon as I have a less suffocating schedule. Now, it was lovely meeting all of you but you’ll have to excuse me,” and with that, she dashes off. Agathe is no longer dancing, and when she glances at the chaise where her mother rests with her friends, she realizes Chloe isn’t there either. She catches Adrien’s eyes, and he stares at her meaningfully. He stands up in a quick and elegant movement, excusing himself and muttering apologies. Once he reaches her, he offers his arm. She takes it and questions, “Where’s Agathe? I haven’t spoken to her since I got here and now she’s nowhere to be seen.” He glances at her sideways, but doesn’t answer anything. They stalk off, and when she catches sight of their reflection on a big mirror, she notes that strands are coming lose from her sleek bun. The thuds of their footsteps become muffled by the carpet that covers the hallways outside the ballroom they’d previously been in.

Marinette keeps walking, and grips Adrien’s arm a bit tighter just because she can. He smells good, like he always does. He once confessed his mother chooses his cologne, and that he’s fine with it because it smells nice. Marinette agrees wholeheartedly. It’s a musky yet soft smell. Unlike most colognes, Adrien’s reminds her of her father’s because it’s actually enjoyable. He throws her a quick glance and then let’s go of her. They stand before two tall carved wooden doors, and he brings a finger to his lips as he reaches for the handle. _Be quiet_ , she understands. He twists the handle and the door click open. He gestures for her to come in, ushering her, and walks in too, closing the door behind them. Inside, the room is dark. There’s a Persian carpet covering the floor and the walls are full of books, a wooden ladder attached to the shelves for easy access to those high above. The wall opposite to Marinette is tall windows, and one of them is open, silky curtains waving in the night breeze. There’s a piano tucked in the corner of the room, and two olive green settees across an ancient looking wooden table. There are two pairs of heels hidden behind the ceramic base beside the door, and Adrien takes off his shoes and hides them as well, gesturing for Marinette to follow suit. She does, tucking hers under the piano. Adrien makes his way for one of the settees, and Marinette walks to the window. It leads to the garden, and just as Marinette is about to come near it, she has to stop and put a hand to her mouth to avoid screaming as Chloe jumps into the room from outside. She gives her an unimpressed glare and shushed her harshly. The heavier curtains start shifting, and soon enough Agathe is visible. Some hair locks have gone stray from her braid crown and her cheeks are flushed. She sighs when she sees Marinette holding a hand to her chest, and stares numbly at Adrien, who is lounging on the couch with his hands behing his head and merely shrugs at her. She shakes her head and whispers, “Okay, my dearest friends, today we’re having a sleepover.”

Chloe grins, Agathe smirks, Adrien sighs and Marinette _balks._ “We’re what now,” she asks, but it comes out flat. Agathe flicks her forehead, ignoring Marinette’s weak protest. “We’re having a sleepover, dumbass! That’s not gonna be a sleepover at all, but we’ll use that as a cover. Now, it definitely cannot be here if we want it to work, so who offers their house?”

“Why can’t t be here?” Marinette asks, and the stares she gets make her feel like an idiot. Chole lets out a groan, “Mari, baby, please step it up and catch up quickly, yeah?” she begins, and Adrien lets out a chuckle before letting her carry on. “What Agathe means is that we’re gonna go to a block party under the pretence of a sleepover, dummy!” Chloe’s gentle tone makes it hard for Marinette to actually register her words, but once she does she gapes at them. “A _block party_?”

Adrien sits up and pats the spot next to him. She sits next to him, and he rubs her back. “Not really a block party? My friend–” “Not really,” Agathe interrupts. Adrien sighs, “— _my friend_ , Valentin, told me and Agathe that a kid from _Saint Laurent’s_ will be having a blast tonight, and when Agathe asked for details he told us everything because he has the biggest crush on her.” Agathe made a noise that resembled a dying whale, as Chloe put it, and the four of them laughed. “Anyways,” he carried on, “he said a boy called Jean Jaques from _Saint Laurent’s_ will be having a blast at his house. And a girl that Agathe befriended on her volley match against _Anatole_ will also have one on the same street. They’re supposed to be two separate parties, but we all know everyone’s gonna crash both.”

Marinette stared at them. “Those are highschools,” she stated. Agathe stared at her before replying, “Yeah, and? We’re already freshmans, Marinette. The hosts are 16, and the people who will be there will also be either 15 or 16, like us. We just want to have a taste of what partying is like.”

Marinette put her head in her hands, and Adrien’s comforting gestures get more desperate. Agathe crawls to kneel before her, “Hey, hey baby. It’s fine, if you really don’t want to go we can just have a normal slumber party,” she says. Marinette mumbles something against her palm, and Chloe, who is now also there, grabs her hand and says, “C’mon, Mari, speak louder. What’s wrong? Adrien was also very against it, but we coaxed him into it. We won’t do that to you, though, but please tell us what’s wrong?”

“Guys, I’m not fifteen like all of you,” she stated. “Everyone there might be fifteen and sixteen which will seem alright to you because that’s just a year age gap, but I am fourteen and it’s gonna be months before I am your age.”

Adrien stares at her, and abruptly smolders her against his shoulder. “But we’re gonna be there with you, Mari! And we’re gonna go and dash home, we’re just going to take a peek.”

They all reassure her it’s gonna be fine, and in the end she smiles. “Fine,” she agrees, “But if you ever leave me alone, I’m going to fudge you up, guys.” Agathe bursts out laughing and Adrien turns away. Marinette doesn’t understand why he does it nor does she ask, too fixed on the amusement lingering on the girls’ faces. “I’m staying with _mamie_ for the next month because dad left for Italy. She goes to sleep early, and even if she didn’t we could say we’re going to the pharmacy and she wouldn’t ask anymore. She says I should ‘really live it up’ so she’s more of a fellow conspirator, guys,” says Chloe, and she smiles.

“Alright! Let’s go back, it’s almost ten, people will start leaving and we gotta ask for permission before.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thanks for reading! sorry this sucks, i'm an actual honest to god teenager whose first languge isnt english and also doesnt have a beta djshfjkdfha. Y'all can come and [drag me here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ducktocks)  
> [Agathe's dress](https://www.google.com.mx/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&ved=0ahUKEwj76-aKy6bYAhUp9IMKHT_oCI8QjhwIBQ&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwheretoget.it%2Flook%2F362030&psig=AOvVaw3oiH_V-8dw1djYdxE93hb3&ust=1514340169584846)  
> [Mari's super fab suit bc she's fashionable goddamnit (picture it in soft pink)](https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1jYGvNpXXXXbSapXXq6xXFXXXK/Korean-Fashionable-Women-Blazer-Top-Pants-2-Piece-Set-Clothing-OL-Business-Suit-Trousers-Suit-Womens.jpg_640x640.jpg)  
> [the settees bc the agreste luv old and ugly things](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/2a/82/d6/2a82d6d1255f4c15e9f9ef547ec08443--green-velvet-sofa-green-sofa.jpg)  
> corazón coraza, which translates to guarded heart, is the prettiest sweetest poem out there and i love it very much, i'd recommend you read it. all french and the translation of the poem is my own, so please correct me if there's mistakes (although spanish is my first language lol) i changed nathaniel for ivan in the first chapter bc nathaniel is actually Adrien's friend from the snobbish school. note, the twins have few real friends. the waltz playing is Frederic Chopin's waltz in A minor op. posth (bc it's soft and good and screams Agathe) and also Tchaikovsky's waltz of the flowers bc the Agreste's are fancy and pretentious and have a good music taste thx bai that's all :) comments and kudos warm my heart! love y'all   
> (ALsO! yes, adrien turns away bc he's blushin!!!!!! Marinette trying not to cuss is just The CutestTM)


	4. pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shitstorms or what

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm a mess and consistency for updates is a joke. i also changed the tense of the story so ill have to go back to previous chapters to Fix That, i'm sorry! i hope you enjoy.

Sabine eyes her suspiciously. The four of them had sat down with their mothers (and grandmother), and Madame Bourgeois had clapped her hands, eyes alight and nodding her approval. “My dear Chloe, the last time you organized a slumber party, you barely reached my hips!” she laughed. Elena smiled tightly at her, and turned to her own children, gaze hard.

She stood up, and latched onto the arms of her kids, one on each side. “Come with me, darlings,” she said. She made her way towards Gabriel, and Agathe and Adrien shared a look behind her back by craning their necks. Agathe looked back, and nodded at Chloe and Marinette. It was clear then, she’d do the talking and they’d have their way, because the only person who was able to have things her way with Gabriel Agreste was no other than Agathe Agreste.

Gabriel was standing alone with Tom, both of them having lazy chatter after the party had died down. Marinette turned, and her mother excused both of them, saying they’d rush to the kitchen to retrieve the handbag Sabine had forgotten.

Sabine hadn’t brought a handbag with her.

As the two of them walk, Sabine turns to her. “I didn’t know you and the kids were this prone to last minute plans, _ma chérie_?”

Marinette stares at her, and tries to keep her face unreadable. “We’re not,” she states simply.

Her mother hums in a way that insinuates disbelief. Panic starts prickling at her skin, so she elaborates, “The major is out of town, so Chloe is staying with her grandma. It’s been a long time since we’ve hung around this way, and I guess turning fifteen made Agathe melancholic. I’ve been getting along with Chloe better too, which still confuses me.”

“Is that so?” She hums back, eyes straight ahead. “Yeah, she’s nice to me now and she’ll be kind and only be sarcastic, but then on Monday she’ll say my name like it scalds her tongue and make sly remarks about my every move that only Sabrina will laugh about. It’s a side of her that neither Agathe nor Adrien have gotten to see since I was like seven, and it embarrasses me whenever Nino or Alya see it,” she rambles. Her mother halts, and turns slowly to gaze at her.

“Marinette, do me a favour, my love,” she begins, “never lose your kindness, and never be embarrassed about people being harsh. Others’ actions speak about them, never you, got it?” After the young girl nods, she adds, “Try and listen to people. Talk to them, and remember that although forgiving isn’t in any way a duty but _a privilege you give others_ , it’s also easier and wiser to just let go of grudges, as small as they may be.”

She gapes at her mother, and hugs her, burying her nose on the soft skin between her neck and shoulder. “Thank you, maman.”

.::.

She went home with her parents and got a bag ready. Gorilla would pick her up and then drop the three of them _chez Madame Bourgeois_. Tomorrow morning they’d walk and lounge at Marinette’s until Gabriel and Elena were less busy and could go pick them up themselves. Her mother offered to help, but Marinette told her she could pack herself.

She definitely didn’t need help packing.

A car honks outside and the doorbell rings. She grabs the bag and throws in a small stuffed ladybug Alya gave her when she turned 11, Tikki. She makes her way downstairs, and her dad is already at the door, talking animatedly with Adrien as her mother braids again Agathe’s mess of a hair. Once that’s done, they hop on the car, all of them still wearing their fancy attires.

“What did you guys pack?” she whispers.

“Green shirt and jeans,” Adrien says at the same time Agathe says, “Jeans and a green top.” They immediately turn their heads to stare at each other, and Agathe glares when Marinette laughs.

“Oh, well, that’s awkward! Someone’s gonna have to changeee,” she singsongs. Agathe’s eyes widen and her forehead wrinkles when her eyebrows shoot up, the way they always do when she has an idea. “ _Wait_ a second! What did _you_ pack?”

“An old sweater,” she says. A few weeks ago, Marinette had grabbed an old and frayed sweater from her parents’ room. It was soft and a washed out navy blue and definitely not her size, but her dad hadn’t seemed to mind, so after a few adjustments it had been fit to be worn as a dress.  Agathe beamed at her answer. “So we can swap, right? That way Adrien and I don’t match!”

Marinette eyes her, nose scrunched up. “Yeah, but then _he and I_ would match! It wouldn’t solve anything, it would just free _you_ from having to deal with it!”

Adrien sat quietly, listening to the exchange. He sighed for the millionth time that night and said, “She doesn’t want to match with _me_ because she thinks people will baby us,” he explains.

“Baby you?” she questions. “Aren’t you both like, the same age as everyone there?”

“Yeah,” Agathe says, “but we’re _twins_ , Marinette. Everyone will think we’re matching because of it, like we did when we were kids. One time we matched in colors and Adrien’s asshole of a friend kept cooing at me and saying we were the cutest pair of twins out there and asking if our mama had anything to do with it like the _dick_ everyone Adrien hangs around is.” Marinette gapes at her, then stares at Adrien who’s smiling at her awkwardly. It was hard to phantom, how someone who appreciated his sister so much and was just genuinely nice, hung around people that so obviously distasted her.

“They’re not that bad, Agathe…” he mutters. She whips her head and stared at him dumfounded. “Like hell they are! A big chunk of them are terrible people, Adrien. I’m sorry you’re too good for them, but I think it’s time you start facing you’re way better than any boy at Mendès. I’d say girl too, but I go there and most girls there rock, so I can’t lie to you.”

He turns to Marinette, eyes helpless. “Mari, please get my sister to stop harassing me,” he begs. She purses her lips, “Mendès boys don’t have a reputation of being exactly nice, you know? A junior spent a whole month bad mouthing them because a kid toyed with him. ‘They think their pretty faces will bail them out of anything,’ that’s what he said. I think she isn’t harassing you, but stating the facts. You _are_ way better than most people, Adrien,” she says and he stares at her, mouth hanging open. Once Agathe starts screaming  ‘ _See? I told you, you airhead!_ ’ he shoots her a glare of utter betrayal.

“You both suck and like to mock me,” he says. He crosses his arms and lies back, “Anyway, if you two won’t swap outfits, you’ll have to stick with matching with me,” he says eyeing his sister pointedly.

“Why don’t you ask Chloe to lend you something when we get there?” Marinette asks. Agathe stares at her, expression blank, and replies, “We’ll see, Marinette.”

The rest of the car ride goes uneventful.

~~SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~~

They get there and after five minutes of Gorilla reciting strict instructions from Gabriel –to which Agathe merely rolls her eyes— they’re free to go. Nina Bourgeois lives in an old and huge apartment near the Médiathèque Musicale Mahler. The woman in reality owns the entire complex, a building with a baroque style and high ceilings that went from corner to corner of the square. Chloe comes out of the building, waving at the Gorilla with a tight smile and ushering them inside once he has sped off.

Once inside, Nina offers them dinner. The three of them decline politely, and Nina chuckles. She goes to bed 20 minutes after their arrival, arguing she needed her ‘healthy rest’. “I was never thin to begin with, that’s where André gets it from, and I’m getting old. The least I can do for my old bones is give them their good rest, no?” and with that, she leaves them, muttering that they _‘should be well behaved.’_

Chloe grabs a Tupperware full of grapes from the fridge, and walks them to her room. “Alright, fuckers, so are you ready?”

“No, we are not,” says Agathe as Adrien mutters ‘why _is everyone cussing so much tonight?’_. “Dumbass #2 packed the same as me, and Marinette won’t swap with me.” Chloe clicks her tongue, “Well, sucks to be you! I’d offer my clothes, but there’s no way in hell they’d fit you and look good, you’re a lot skinnier than me. Is there no way to fix this?”

Agathe stares at her. “I’m not matching with Adrien,” she says, short and petulant. She offers a hand to Marinette, who lies hers on top. Agathe stares at it for a second before saying, “Marinette, baby, I was asking for your phone.”

Once it’s on her hold, she types something quickly and a swift sound’s heard. “Done,” she exclaims, and hands it back. Marinette pockets it, eyeing her questioningly. Soon, her phone starts dinging. Alya.

_Hello, Alya! It’s Agathe :) sorry I can’t text from mine btw (I’m gonna plug it in rn!!!) but I just wanted to ask if you were planning on going to the pseudo block party 2nite? We were planning on it (long story, will tell, girl) but I have the same outfit as Adrien and I Will Not Wear It, but Mari refuses to swap with me and??? I can’t coax her into it????? she’s gonna miss a great chance at being accidentally cute with her crush (ik, in this economy??? What an outrage!!!), pls convice her. Thank u!!! ily, pls come!!_

**_ Caligula _ **

**Girl, she’s unbelievable??? @Mari: OH MY GOD AAAAHHHHHH BITCH**

**01-800-ARE YOU SLAPPIN!!!!! Wake Up!!!! Mari, if you wont see it as a chance to match**

**with da kruzh, then see it as a chance to match with An Actual Model and the perfect way to**

**Exploit your own Outstanding beauty (he got nothing on you ngl)????**

**_ Caligula _ **

**If you really don’t want to, I can catch up and lend u a sweater I stole from Mikhail like a year ago? And**

**with the pants u should be fine and comfy and warm. Please take up Agathe on this one, I’ll take that sweater**

**and meet u guys there.**

 

She looks up from her phone and gapes at Agathe, a weird feeling resembling anger settling in her stomach and she says, “You _know?_ You’ve known all this time? Agathe, who even fucking told you!”

Agathe’s face falls, and she stares at her with hurt that quickly hardens into something uglier. “It was obvious, darling! And we’re supposed to be best friends, so why didn’t you tell me? He’s my family!” Marinette scoffs, “I didn’t tell you precisely because of that! Are you really selfish enough to blame me for trying to sit you out on this one?” she questions, and then quieter, “It’s not something I’m familiar with, or even proud of. It’s new and sometimes I feel like it sits heavy at the pit of my stomach. I didn’t want to tell anyone, to be honest. Please don’t get mad,” she pleas.

Adrien and Chloe stare at the two of them, and once Agathe sighs and puts a hand on her head. “You’re giving me your sweater, then?” and her face breaks off into a grin. “I don’t blame you, we’re hot stuff,” she whispers in her ear, and smirks. Marinette swats at her, and shrieks. “It’s not because of that, you animal! And yeah, yeah, you can have it.”

Both of them laugh, and she hears Chloe mutter a soft ‘ _what the hell did we just witness’_ to Adrien, who merely shrugs. He then stands up and cracks his knuckles, ignoring everyone’s protests that _it’s fucking unhealthy to do that, Adrien!_ as he approaches Marinette and puts a hand on her shoulder. “So we’ll be matching, then?” he asks. She studies his hand, and then wraps her own around his middle finger. Her hand looks particularly small next to his, just like the rest of her being, but she still yanks his finger, a small ‘ _pop’_ following it. He smiles and offers her another finger as she says, “Yeah, I guess we are.”

~~SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~~

Marinette understands that Agathe feels a strong need for autonomy from her father’s rules, but she thinks it’d be better if she just stuck to the clothes he chooses for his children. He’s a fashion designer, choosing clothes is the one thing where Gabriel Agreste’s parenting skills are anything but questionable, goddamnit.

With a three to one ratio of girls and boy(s), and all three of them agreed that Adrien should be the one to go to the bathroom far off in the hallway. He, again, just shrugged. Chloe had settled for a turtle neck, while Agathe changed into Marinette’s sweater. She changed into what Agathe was meant to wear wordlessly, but when she said ‘a green top’, she figured she meant a polo shirt like the ones Adrien would wear under his blazers most of the time. Instead, the shirt wasn’t so much of a shirt but a stripped silky dress shirt. It wasn’t ugly, per say, but it was missing buttons around the top, and left her collarbones on display.

“Oh, I hadn’t realized that. Looks good, though! I might leave it like that when you give it back. Make sure to tuck the shirt in and wear the tennis you brought, it’ll be such a look oh my god,” she then turned to Chloe, “Mom jeans literally saved human kind, Chlo,” she stated, before going back to applying chaptick. She sighed, and dropped the subject. “Alya will be coming, guys.”

Chloe flopped down on the bed, “She will? That’s okay, I guess. I mean, the party _is_ for _everyone_ ,” she said, and Marinette wasn’t sure she liked the way that sounded, but let it go. She wasn’t in the mood to fight Chloe. “Yeah, she’s also gonna bring me a sweater. I don’t think this shirt is as ravishing on me as it is on someone else I know,” she laughed.

Someone knocked on the door, and all three of them stood up, ready to leave.

.::.

They’d barely gotten there and she wasn’t a fan already. There weren’t many people she knew to be her age, and a few juniors greeted her and whistled when they saw her. _John Jean_ –or whatever his name was— found them on the entrance, and told Agathe and Chloe they looked good. He then clasped Adrien’s back and whispered something to his ear that made him blush but also twist his mouth. She noted his smirk was condescending and the raise of his eyebrow petulant, so she made sure to grip at Adrien a little bit tighter and smirk with a little more teeth than usual. They made their way inside, and Marinette noted most people were Sophomores, with some Freshmen lounging in groups around the staircase. She spotted more people she knew that were soon to turn seventeen than she would’ve liked, but decided it was useless to worry once she was already there.

The house itself was big, like she was meant to expect. Not a mansion, but a big and fancy house none the less. They made their way further inside, and under the stairs sat a lanky boy with a sweatshirt sprinkled with paint managing the music. Marinette realized the music was mostly Eurovision, and let go from Adrien to approach him.

“Hey!” she screams, trying to be louder than the music. The boy didn’t seem to hear her, so she reaches for his shoulder and tried again. Startled, he raises his head. His eyes widen at her, and she notices they are an electric shade of blue. They reminded her of Nathalie’s, perhaps just not cold at all. “Hey,” he says back, and the music lowers some. She grins, “I noticed you like Eurovision a bit? I bet you were trying to play it all night,” she says. He hesitates, but after a while quips, “And I would have gotten away with it too, weren’t it for you meddling kid!”

She laughs, eyes wrinkling, and sees his eyes fill with mirth, lips tugging upward. She tends her hand, “Marinette,” she offers. He stares at it for a while, again hesitant, but grips it and says, “Nathaniel.” Her eyes widen with recognition and the words of the man earlier that night clicked. “Wait, Kurtzberg?”

“Uh… yeah? Should—should I be worried you know my last name? You know, give someone a heads up of where I am and turn on the location of my phone?” he asks, and although he’s smiling, there’s an edge to his voice that remained timid. “What? No, crap—on a scale of one to ten just how creepy did I come off as? No, it’s just the name was familiar. A few hours ago I met you uncle, Matheo, and he mentioned your name. Also, in retrospect, your face seems familiar. Do—do I know you from somewhere?” He narrows his eyes, as if inspecting her face meticulously, but then laughs and says, “Nope,” a loud pop at the _‘pe’_ , “I don’t think so, Marinette.”

“Huh, then I guess I’m finally going crazy then. What’re you playing next, then?” He beams, and says, “Jean asked me to stick to an ‘eighties vibe’,” he began. Then, with a gruff voice and perhaps trying to imitate the guy from the door’s own, “ _’C’mon, dude, stick to it. Girls love it, man. They’ll approach you, even, call you sensible and shit’_ but after ten minutes I got tired of listening to Abba and instead started listening to other auditions from Eurovision, this time ones I enjoy more personally.”

She giggles, and then fakes a gasp, “Oh my, you got _tired_ of Abba? This is blasphemous, my virgin ears are scandalized!” He snorts, “Yeah, how dare I!” She laughs some more, and asks, “Was it working, though?”

“Hm?”

“The strategy, was it working? Were girls deeming you sensible and approachable?” she clarifies. “Nah,” he shrugs, “They only came in for requests or to greet me because we’re friends from somewhere. I think my own strategy works better, definitely.” Now genuinely curious, Marinette asks, “Yeah, and what’s your strategy, Casanova?”

“Blast Eurovision until a pretty girl notices and asks about it,” he states, easy and raw. Marinette, not catching up, questions, “And has it worked yet? You said it works better, spill the tea!”

“You’re here, no?” he says softly, and then lowers his gaze, pretending to be doing something on the laptop next to him. “Oh,” she breathes out, but she doesn’t have to reply more because a tall head of blonde hair is squirming his way through the crowd, screaming her name. Both her and Nath look his way, and Marinette stands on her tiptoes, hoping she becomes more visible regardless of her height. She raises her arms, and screams his name at the top of her lungs, the rhythm of the bass pounding against her ears. He spots her, and lights up.

“Hey, Mari! I thought for a while I’d lost you and freaked out. Jeez, you really are tiny, I looked everywhere and not a single head belonged to you, Agathe said I looked like I was about to cry. I think she was right, my eyes did burn a little when I thought about you being alone and—oh hey, Nath!”

Marinette fetched his hand, saying she was sorry she was too small for his liking. ‘ _Oh, believe me, it has nothing to do with my liking_ ,’ he said, asking if she knew Nath before she could ask what he meant by that.  “Yeah, I just met him,” she then turned to Nath, “So that’s why your face was familiar, Nathaniel! You’re Adrien’s friend from the snobbish school,” she explains.

“Yeah, that and my uncle’s favorite ice breaker. What a charmer I am, no? Adrien’s friend and nephew of Matheo Kurtzberg, wow,” he says, somewhat bitterly. Marinette drops Adrien’s hand and sits next to Nathaniel. “Don’t be such a loser, say you’re Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s friend and people will _fucking gape_ , man. All the girls will go crazy, call you sensible and shit, dude, I promise.” He snorts, and twists his gaze to smile at her. “Yeah, I’ll do that. Sounds way cooler. Hey, Adrien, stop hanging out with fellow models, yeah? Makes you seem petty, dude!”

Adrien stares at the two of them oddly, before laughing and sitting on the floor with them too, “Yeah, I know, right? Not as petty as Mari, though. The little sunbeam likes to hang around us mere mortals to emphasize her beauty,” he says, and Marinette feels her heart skip a beat. She grabs at her hair, and picks half of it up, gripping the hair band with her teeth, making her next words muffled, “Shut your cake holes!” Adrien bursts out laughing, and Nath mutters, “Classy” although he’s still smiling.

She drops her arms to her sides once she’s done, and burries her head on her knees. “I hate both of you,” she exclaims, and Nathaniel pats her head. “Shh, shh, now, I’ll let you have the next song, what’re you feeling like listening?”

.::.

They end up listening to Nathaniel’s favorite song by the winner of 2016. She’s a Ukrainian artist named Jamala, and Nath insists her songs go hard as hell. “They’re usually about Russia’s questionable presence in Crimea and Ukrain in general,” he explains, and although his tone is light, his eyes are alight.

Minutes later, a girl Marinette recognizes from a course on tailoring she took approaches them. She presents herself as Clarisse, and sits next to Adrien. She asks him if he’s hungry, ignoring both Marinette and Nath, who share a Look™ and raise an eyebrow at her. She presses a hand to his chest, and rests her chin on his shoulder as she bates her eyelashes at him. He laughs awkwardly, and looks at Mari for an intervention. She rolls her eyes and sighs, deep and hopefully loud. “Hey, Clarisse!” she begins, tone cheerful and sweet, “I’m Marinette, we took a course on tailoring together last summer!” Clarisse eyes her, doing a quick and kind of spiteful once over, “Anyway, I’m not trying to interrupt whatever you and Adrien have got going on, but I just remembered Kim was looking for you.” The girl’s eyes light up, and Adrien sighs in relief when she lets go of him. “Really?” she asks, tone hopeful. “Yeah, girl. He said he’d be at Monique’s, go fetch him.”

Suddenly, Clarisse stands up in a graceful movement. She’s no longer paying mind to Adrien, and she continues to ignore Nath. Marinette notes the hazel of her eyes looks very nice with the brown of her skin. “Thanks, Mari,” the girl says, and Marinette has to bite her tongue in order not to scoff at it. “There’s snacks and drinks in the kitchen. The liquor and alcohol in general is by the pool, but I don’t think you care about that. I love your shirt, by the way,” and with that, she stalks off, hips swaying and hair going wild.

“Wow,” Nathaniel says. “You’re so cool, but are you sure Kim was asking where she was?” She turns and stares at him, eyes full of mischief. “Nah, I’m not sure he’s even here. He said he was coming on Tuesday when he grabbed lunch with me, but he might be getting wasted by the pool for all I know,” she says. After hesitating, she adds, “Although I really really hope he isn’t… not by the pool, at the very least, oh my god, I’d cry if something bad happened to him.”

Adrien laughs, and both Nath and Mari turn to watch him as he says, “Do not fret, you were pretty spot on. I saw him walking into the other house, but he was bantering with Alix. I think you only have to worry about asking for his forgiveness.”

“No way, he owes me big time. And _you_ owe me big time, Agreste. I can’t believe I wasted my token with Kim for you, jeez I hope you never ask whether I love you because this just made it clear I freaking do,” she ends with a dramatic huff. Adrien nudges her knee with his, and says, “Sure you do, princess.” Nath coughs, and asks, “So… are you dating or what?”

“What,” Marinette answers flatly, and Nathaniel laughs. “I take that’s a no?” She eyes him meaningfully, and Adrien smiles sheepishly. “Good,” he says, and they leave it at that. “Where’s your sister, anyways? She’s wild, I want to say hi.”

“She went to the other house. Said she refused to listen to Russia’s entry to Eurovision last year. Chloe followed after her, though, so they’re together.”

“Pffff, yeah, Russia always sucks. Sometimes there’ll be a photo with no hint of it, but just with a glance you can tell it was taken somewhere in Russia, and I think that’s hilarious. How’s Bourgeois doing, anyways? Last time I saw her, she flipped though my sketchbook and said she used to have a bracelet that looked like the one I had sketched, then called me a thief and said my eyes were ‘too piercing’ before walking off with a girl at her heel.”

Marinette snaps her head up, “Oh yeah, she’ll be like that sometimes. And don’t worry, I like your dramatic and pretentious piercing eyes,” she said, making a terrible British accent with each adjective. Nathaniel smiles at her, “Why, thank you, Mari. I personally like your deep and alluring eyes,” he says, with a just as terrible Russian accent. Both laugh and Adrien cleares his throat, “What do you mean, Bugginette? She’s nice to you all the time.”

She stares at him, and swallows thickly. “Except she’s not. I genuinely care and love Chloe, but she’s only nice to me outside of school, and most of that time we spend it with you. At school, she makes sly remarks and spits out my name like it’s poison. I plan on asking her about it, though, and she does it rarely,” she puts a hand on his knee and looks into his eyes, “Really, don’t even think about it too much, Adrien.”

He hums, and then a voice behind them asks, “So what did I miss?”

She turns, and there, in all of her glory, stands Alya. “Not much, I made a new friend and he’s cooler than Adrien!” Adrien lets out a protest, and Nath waves at her. “Is that Eurovision 2010, though?” she asks as she sits with them, and Marinette and Nath fist bump.  “Yeah, it is!” Alya sighs, and says, “Anyways, here’s the sweater, girl! It’s supposed to be a turtleneck, so it’ll be lose because this thing’s like 10 sizes not yours, but your collarbones should be covered and it should look a lot like your dad’s did before that makeover of yours. I still think you look pretty, but it’s fine if you don’t want to match with Adrien anymore.”

“Oh, you guys were matching? That’s cool,” Nath remarks. “Only because Agathe is a huge crybaby and also dresses like an animal! This thing’s missing buttons, and she didn’t even realize until we had traded outfits,” Marinette whines, “I actually didn’t mind matching Adrien? I think we looked cute, not gonna lie, but also I kind of don’t want to have my collarbones exposed like this? It’s a look, Agathe’s right, but it’s not a nighttime one,” she finishes, and puts the sweater on. The sleeves are way too long, and she has to push them back and roll up the ends so they stay in place. “So? What do you guys think?”

Adrien studies her, “I think you look like a fashionable white mum from the catholic suburbs in the seventies,” he says. “Oddly specific, prince charming,” she says and he laughs. She still likes the way he laughs. “if it gets too warm then I’ll just take it off, I think that now that I have the sweater I care less—” a loud splashing sound followed by giggles and laughter comes from the pool, and the four of them eye each other before making their way there to see what the hassle is all about. The host of the party, _Jean Jacob or whatever,_  is standing in the glass door that leads to the back, face pulling in a hideous way as he laughs. Some girls that Marinette knows go to Mendès are standing there too, and a pretty blond with a button nose holds a hand to her lips as she gasps. Splashing sounds are heard again, and the music turns a bit louder, which throws Nath off. They push their way around, and once they’re through, multiple kids are in the pool, in the middle of it all Chloe.

Adrien widens his eyes, and rushes to the side of the pool. Lounging on a bench is a kid that Marinette guesses had been hammered for a while. Adrien screams at him, and she catches the name _Valentin_. Beside her, Nath mutters a quiet _‘N’ah, fuck, not again’_ and holds her by the wrist as they come closer. In the pool, some kids float around and Marinette thinks they look mildly drunk, perhaps just tipsty, while others who seem sober have a belly flop contest. A group of girls is sitting by the door, and Marinette flinches when one of them screams “Shut up, I’m gay!” as she shows off a tattoo of a letter B. Valentin keeps telling Adrien ‘to chill’ like a mantra, not answering any of the questions the boy throws his way.

Adrien cards a hand through his hair, and tugs at it until Marinette raises a hand and touches his elbow with the tips of her fingers. He notices her, and stops the motion, hand resting on his scalp. “She’s shitfaced,” he sighs, and he sounds so broken Marinette has to resist the urge to cry. “She’s shitfaced and Agathe left her the fuck alone. Mari, it wasn’t Agathe I was worried for, it was Chloe. And now she’s shitfaced in the middle of a _fucking pool_ and I just—” he grunts, frustrated, “I just wish we hadn’t come to this fucking place, y’know? Apparently she refuses to move from that bloody float and I—” His hands are shaking and his knuckles are white, and for a passing moment, Adrien looks much older than fifteen. She glances behind him, and the Valentin guy has left. She coaxes him so he’s sitting down, and pats his shoulder. With a quick nod at Nath, she scans the place, looking for Alya. She spots her by the glass door, and catches her eye before marching off. One of the girls testing the water with her toes gets pushed in, and Marinette walks over to where her friends are laughing.

She wordlessly offers the girl a hand, and once the girl is back on the surface and has stopped coughing, she smiles at her and thanks her before getting back in. Before she can swim off, Marinette says, “Hey, see the girl there?” the girl follows her finger, and hums. “Can you please push the float to the shore? She’s drunk and I’d like it better if she weren’t inside a pool, you see,” and smiles what she hopes is a gentle smile. The girl nods, and pushes the float, hesitating when Chloe makes an attempt at rolling over. She rushes to the end where the girl leaves Chloe at reach, and thanks her before hauling a grumbling Chloe by the wrists.

Boasting her upward, she puts the girl’s arm on her shoulder. She doesn’t know how much she’s had to drink, and she doesn’t want to know. Her eyes are glassy, but she still seems lucid. Adrien rushes to her, and pick Chloe up, struggling just the smallest bit. The girl nuzzles at his neck, and mutters something about him smelling good and calls him Adri-chou. Marinette rolls her eyes, and goes inside the house. There’s a second floor, and she makes to go up. “Hey, Mari, a guy said he’d cut anyone who went up there,” says Nath. She stares at him, and tries to mimic the glare Chloe has given here one too many times. “Yeah? Let him fucking test me,” she says, and rushes up. She finds a room, and assumes it a guest’s one if the insipid beige wallpaper and empty picture frames are anything to go by. She makes way for Adrien, and he drops the drunken girl on the bed with as much care as he can muster. She checks the clock, and it’s barely midnight. In a strangled voice, Adrien wonders, “Where the hell is Agathe?”

She turns and in the dark room, the moonlight makes his features seem harsh. She sighs, and tells him to stay there. She rushes downstairs, Nath behind her. “Here,” she says, and hands him her phone, “I don’t think you’ll see much more of me tonight, so put your number in there and hand it back to me later. If you see Alya, tell her I’m fine. Please, go find your laptop before someone fucks with it,” she instructs. He smiles at her, “you’re oddly cool and surprisingly mature for a fourteen year old, Mari.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she brushed him off, and runs to the other party.

The house is barely any different to the other one, lacking only the pool. Marinette sighs in relief, and starts looking. In the living room, Kim is sprawled on a sofa and looks sober enough. She approaches him, and he quickly starts throwing questions her way, “Hey! Mari! What the fuck was Clarisse going on about earlier? That’s my favor for you, okay? We’re even now, you gotta—”

“Yeah, awesome,” she interrupts him, “Where’s Agathe?”

“Wow, okay, harsh. I saw her in the kitchen like ten minutes ago, she might still be there.”

She throws a quick thanks his way and runs off, and surely enough, Agathe is sitting cross legged on top a kitchen counter, popping grapes into the mouth of a boy and laughing when he gags on them because he can’t chew fast enough. Anger prickles at her palms, and she stomps there, pushing the boy aside as he shouts complaints through a mouth full and grabbing Agathe’s arm with iron grip, dragging her back after hugging her and sighing in relief for a brief moment.

“Woah, Mari, what’s wrong?” she asks, and Marinette doesn’t know whether to cry or laugh or both. Once they’re outside, standing on the pavement of the street as cars rush by, she whips her head back and shouts, “ _What’s wrong?_ _What’s wrong,_ she asks, because of course you’ve no idea. What’s wrong is that you freaking left Chloe alone, and paid her no mind! She got drunk off her ass, and ended up in a pool. Do you what could’ve happened? What almost happened?”

Agathe’s face falls, and she raises her hands. “Woah, what the hell? Don’t scream at me, alright? I might’ve been tipsy myself, you know?” At that Marinette barks out a laugh, “Tipsy? You’re completely sober right now, no? How could’ve you been selfish enough to let that happen to Chloe, Aga? You forgot about her, what’s wrong with you?”

The other girl looks at the verge of tears, but her eyebrows pull into a frown, “Well, I don’t fucking know! She’s my age too, why do I have to babysit her?”

“Your brother was worried about her and not you for reasons only you and him know, so don’t freaking ask me that. You don’t have to say anything right now, I’m relieved enough to see you’re fine, but mark my words, Agathe: I’m not talking to you until you’re able to see your brother in the eye and ask for his forgiveness, and I’m not even acknowledging you until Chloe wakes up tomorrow morning and you apologize to her too, got it? I know you didn’t mean to be selfish, but what you did was messed up. I think Adrien lost five years out of his life span and Chloe nearly drowned.” After that, she turns back on her heel, and marches up the same stairway from an hour before, opening the door and finding a sleeping Chloe and a grumpy Adrien.

He eyes his sister, and sighs. He stands up, all awkward limbs, too tired to be graceful, and hugs her. She burries her head on his chest, and a sob rackets though her body. She raises her head, and stares at him with wide eyes. “You’ve gotten so tall,” she says. He hums, and closes his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, and burries her head on his shirt again, a stain already taking shape on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Adrien,” and he puts a hand on the back of her neck. “What for?” he asks, and he sounds so genuine, like he could never blame Agathe for anything, could never judge her flaws just like she could never judge his, that Marinette is left striken with the fact that the Agreste only know how to be transparent on one thing, and that’s their love for each other.

Agathe sniffs, and lets out a bitter laugh. “For being a burden, and for coaxing you into coming, even when you told me it made you uncomfortable. Adrien, I’m selfish, but never forget I love you more than anyone or anything.” He buried his face on her head, and let out a wet chuckle. “I’ve noticed,” he says, and Agathe snorts.

.::.

Taking Chloe home is the difficult part. Marinette goes fetch her water, and after a little over an hour, she seems sober enough to walk with only a little help. Nina’s home isn’t far away, a ten minute walk tops. The four of them make their way downstairs, and Nath stands from where he’d been lounging. He gives Marinette her phone back, and asks her to text him. “I think my uncle’s right on this one,” he says, and she laughs, waving him goodbye. Adrien shoots him a glance, and Nath tilts his head and blinks at him. They walk off, and when they make it home, Chloe groans and mumbles something about hating vodka.

“ _Russians,_ ” she spits out, and makes her way to the couch on the living room, swaying her hips more gracefully than a drunken should be allowed to manage. She flops down face-first, and Agathe follows, sitting at the edge of the couch and caressing her head. Adrien sighs, and reaches for a mug from the cupboard over his head.

“Can you put the kettle to boil?” he asks her, and she hums. The stove clicks and turns on, and she puts enough water for two mugs to boil. Both of them rest their backs against the counter and watch the moon from the tall windows that cover the apartment. “You know,” Adrien begins again, “I don’t think it was that bad in the end.” She gapes at him, and waits for him to continue. “I mean, yeah, underage drinking is terrible but it’s also bound to happen to most teenagers. We’re just too much of a pair of goodie-two-shoes, Mari, and I don’t think that’s wrong either. In the end we’re all fine –I guess Chloe isn’t _fine_ but she’s safe– and at least now I have enough experience to confidently say I will stick to parties with Nino and Nath.”

She snickers, “Well yeah, but those aren’t really parties. You just spend a night playing  Mecha Strike II and eating Cheeto’s on your underwear.”

“You don’t know anything about good fun, Marinette.”

She smiles gently at him, “Yeah, I don’t.”

“Got ya’,” he beams, then fiddles with his fingers. “So, what did you think of Nath?”

She turns her head to watch him. He’s picking at non-existent lint from his sleeve and biting on his lower lip. When she hesitates, he looks up and startles her. “I… I—uh… I thought he was very nice,” she says, because it’s true, Nath’s nice, and because he’s Adrien’s friend and that’s what Adrien would like to hear.

“And? Just nice?” he asks, and winks at her without really smiling the way he would if he were joking.

“I mean, his eyes were pretty cool. And I had never met anyone who liked Eurovision without the littlest bit of irony. I think he’s cool and weird, like you. I like him, if that’s what you were trying to get me to say.”

“Oh,” he exhales, as if he had been holding his breath, and for the briefest second, something resembling disappointment flashes on his eyes. “So you’re texting him, then?”

“Well, maybe? His uncle said he thinks we’d be good friends and Nath’s a cool dude so yeah, why not.” She licks her lips and breathes in, “Why? Don’t you want me to?”

He seems startled by the question, and angles his body in a quick movement so his chest faces her, waving his hands in front of his face. “No! I mean, yes! Wait, what—no wait, what I meant is that I didn’t mean to make it sound like I didn’t want to, and that yeah, I want you to. He’s a cool guy, you two really hit it off so I think it’d be cool.”

She stares at him, holding his gaze. He doesn’t relent, nor does he give anything else away. “Okay, then,” she whispers, and the kettle boils.

:.:

The get Chloe to bed and Agathe cuddles her after brushing her teeth, patting her back and mumbling lullabies before falling asleep herself. Adrien and Marinette grab some blankets and pillows and make their way to the living room, the bed not big enough to be comfortable for four teenagers. “Wanna watch something?” she asks.

“Are you really going to let me chose or are you just going to say ‘wrong, try again’ in an obnoxious voice until I say Hercules?”

She clasps her hands, “Ding, ding, ding! Hercules it is, your choice!” and flops down on the couch, Adrien following suit with a fond smile. They each get comfortable on opposites end of the couch and tangle their legs together, Adrien’s much longer than Marinette’s.

At some point through the movie, Adrien stands up to go get more tea for himself and set an aspirin and water on the bedside table of Chloe’s room. “I never expected her to get _shitfaced_ ,” he sighed.

Marinette snuggles further under the blanket. “I didn’t know she _would_ get shitfaced, Adrien. She’s 15, she’s not supposed to be able to drink _so much_ before getting like this.”

“Yeah, Valentin mentioned something about a drinking game getting out of hand,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I… I think it’s—I think it might not be my place to tell, but—Mari, I don’t think Chloe’s fine.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, forehead scrunching up.

“Marinette, this isn’t the first time Chloe does stuff like this,” he says, tone light and expression blank.

“What does _‘like this’_ mean, Adrien? Does she have a drinking problem?”

He sighs, deep and broken. “Marinette, when was the last time you saw her mother?”

“What does that have to do with what I asked you?” she demands. “You’re trying to tell me Chloe has a drinking problem, get on with it!”

“Lower down your voice!” he half whispers. “She doesn’t have a drinking problem, Marinette! She got drunk today, yeah, and that’s underage drinking, yeah, but what I meant by ‘ _like this_ ’ is that Chloe pulls tantrums and has outbursts and does impulsive shit like this ever since her mom left, and I’m worried one day she’ll take it too far.”

“Her… mum left?”

“Why do you think I asked you when was the last time you saw her? She started drinking too much, and neglecting Chloe a little too often. Her fights with Monsieur Bourgeois got a little too harsh, and one day she left. She’s been in Italy since we were twelve, and Chloe visits her sometimes, but their relationship is kinda strained and Chloe’s been… rebellious, to say the least.” He cards a hand through his hair. “Look,” he sighs, “I’d much rather it were Chloe the one to tell you all this, but I—Marinette, she’s my best friend. I don’t know how else to make people understand her better without over-sharing, but Chloe’s not the gross and ugly girl people make her out to be, you know? I know her, and I know she’s not,” he concludes, and tears start dripping down his face as he hides it behind his hands, chest bending down to his knees.

Marinette knows Adrien is well-aware that Chloe’s far from perfectly soft or kind, and that she has a superiority complex that she just started working on the moment he asked her to. This, however, becomes irrelevant, because even though she also knows _that was not the point of his words_ , he still called her _his best friend_ and that hurts. Marinette wants to be his best friend too, has stuck to him for years because she doesn’t want to be his sister’s best friend, she wants to be Adrien’s best friend too. She’s not greedy, and she’s not petty, but she feels incredibly bitter for a second at the thought that no matter what she tries, her relationship with Adrien –regardless of her feelings– will never compare to the level of trust he has seemed to have achieved with Chloe. He raises his head with shiny eyes then, eyebrows furrowed and plush lips a perfect ‘o’ as he snaps  at her attention by calling her name,  and her sour mood drips away, because she can’t be hurt when his eyes implore so honestly for her help and comfort.

Marinette stares at him for a solid second, still silent, and scoots closer to him. She takes his hand, a small comforting gesture, and kisses his palm. “I’m thankful you decided to share this with me,” she whispers, “and we’ll watch out for her. Both of us,” she turns her head, smiling at him. “We’re a team, after all, right?” and he lets out a chuckle.

“A dynamic duo,” he agrees, and the tremble of his voice sounds a little bit less sad.  He scoots closer to her, their thighs touching, and rests his head on hers. He slings an arm around her shoulders, and she hugs him back, burying her head on his neck. He puts his mouth to her ear and whispers, “You know, Mari… I said Chloe’s my best friend, but that’s not completely true if you think it over.” She looks up at him, their cheeks pressed together, and he carries on. “She’s my best friend, but you’re my best friend too. And so is Nino, and Agathe. Mari, is it greedy? That I want all of you as my best friends? There are things I share with you that I can’t share with the rest, is that bad?”

She snorts, and grips at the back of his shirt, nuzzling his collarbones. “No, it’s not,” she answers. “It just means you love all of us too much. Isn’t that nice? You love too much, how beautiful.”

He remains quiet for a while, and laughs a little when Marinette refuses to let go from the hug.

.::.

An alarm blares and a body sits up from the floor and says, completely flatly, “Stay away.”

Marinette laughs, and rubs at her eyes. She reaches for her phone and turns the alarm off. Adrien is already on his feet and making his way towards the room, probably to wake the girls up. She lies back down, and turns the news on, yawning and stretching.  Soon, a loud groan is heard, but the shower turns on less than five minutes later. Agathe and Adrien walk out of the hallway together, and Agathe grumbles something unintelligible before flopping down next to Marinette. Adrien smirks at her and rolls his eyes, and he stretches his back in a very cat-like manner, groaning a little and blinking his eyes.

“Next time, Agathe gets to sleep with you,” he settles. “You move around too much, and the floor wasn’t kind to these bones.” Agathe raises her head, and drags a hand around her face.

“Sure, whatever. What time is it, anyway,” she asks, but it comes out flat. Marinette cards her fingers through the tangles mess and pats her cheek, hard. She reaches for her phone and hums as the shower quiets down.

“Seven thirty or so,” she answers, and checks for a text from her mum, telling her Gorilla will pick them up at ten.

“In the AM?” Agathe asks, eyes going comically wide.

Chloe comes out from the shower, a bright yellow towel draped over her wet hair. She’s already dressed, but she’s barefooted. “No, dumbass, it’s a postal code,” she says in a small and strained voice, and Adrien laughs. 

“Go take a shower, Gats. You smell,” he says, and lets out a bark of laughter when she stick out her tongue at him but stands none the less. He then turns to Marinette, who’s typing furiously at her phone. “What’ve you got there?” he questions, and raises an eyebrow when she turns her phone away from him.

Chloe walks over, and singsongs, “Marinette doesn’t wanna share her _go-ssi-p_ ,” popping the last made-up syllable. She glares at the two of them, and tries to stand up and walk away but Adrien flops down and holds here in place.

She flails and grunts, but he doesn’t even twitch. She sighs, defeated, and says, “I was just gonna flash Nath a quick text so he saves my number too.” Adrien relents, and rolls to sit on the couch next to her rather than on top. Chloe sits next to him, and the two stare at her, Chloe twisting awkwardly to stare at her despite Adrien’s shoulder.

“Oh,” he mutters, and she nods. “You liked him?”

“Yeah, he was a cool guy. I think we might be friends,” she says, and stands up.

.::.

Once all four of them have showered, they sit at the table and eat breakfast, which ends up consisting of fruit and toast mostly. They keep a plate for Nina, who sits down next to them with a loud and deep delighted sound when she wakes up at nine. Marinette and Agathe wash the dishes, and Agathe looks behind her shoulder, where Adrien and Chloe are laughing over something Nina said. She then whispers, “Are you still mad at me?” she’s pointedly avoiding eye contact, but Marinette eyes her through the corner of her eye.      

“No, not really,” she says, and scrubs at a dish with jam smeared.

“I apologized to her,” she says, and Marinette keeps quiet. “She hadn’t seen it like that, but she was thankful I apologized.”

“That’s good,” she answers, and lowers her voice to a whisper, “That girl loves you.”Agathe sets down the glass on her hand and turns her head to stare at Marinette. A blush spreads on her cheeks beautifully, and her gaze is odd and deep. Marinette tilts her head and smiles with her mouth closed. “I’m not mad,” she says, and holds Agathe’s hand. Adrien says something, and Nina gasps loudly, making Agathe turn around. Marinette lets go of her hand. “I’m not mad,” she repeats, and starts rinsing.

.::.

Gorilla picks them up ten minutes before the clock ticks ten. She thanks Nina for her hospitality, and the woman kisses her forehead, calling her the loveliest little girl in the world and telling her t remind her mother of their brunch date set for next Thursday. Agathe and Adrien kiss Chloe’s cheek, and she giggles at each kiss. Marinette, with a new perspective of her, hugs her and kisses her cheek too. Chloe doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t glare or move away either.

They pick their things up and Gorilla asks them how their night was. Agathe, climbing into the car first, winks at them and answers that it went okay with a calm voice. Marinette climbs in, and Adrien climbs in front with Gorilla. She pockets out her phone, and checks her messages. Alya and Nath have texted her a while ago.

**_ calligula _ **

_Did they have hangovers? Are you all okay?_

_I’ll meet you later at the park, ok? Or maybe I can drop by your place later? Tell me when you’re back, Mari._

She texted back a set time, and Alya answered with a thumbs up.

**_ Cool guy with cool eyes :) _ **

_Heya, this is Mari! Just so you have my number too :)_

_Hey, Mari! I just saved your number. Given the way I named my contact, I’ll let you choose how you want me to save yours, is that ok?_

_Also, my uncle came for breakfast just now. I told him I met you (no deets, you’re safe guys) and he was delighted. He kept rambling about your “incredible manners” and “fine fashion sense” to my parents. Dad gave me The Look lol, and mum said I should spend more time with you so like, if you ever wanna hang out or are  bored consider??? Hitting me up??? Maybe lol idk sorry_

_Just save me as Mari haha, it’s fine! I laughed at the contact name._

_And sure, I’m busy today because I’m meeting another friend, but I’ll text you and you can come have dinner! My parents like to meet my friends and I already met your uncle so like, fair ground, Nath._

_Askjfjkfja you’re so c u t e. I saved you as ‘Mari haha’ and sure, lemme know. Mum’s probably gonna send me with something._

_Oh, what an edgelord_

_And that’s not necessary, but it’s fine if she wants to. Tell her thank you for us!_

_Sure thing, ttyl!_

_Yup!_

“Yup,” Agathe says in a childlike voice. “Who is that?”

“Nathaniel Kurtberg,” she answers simply. Agathe examines her with narrowed eyes, and says okay. They leave it at that for the rest of the car ride.

.::.

“Girl, it was wild, but never again,” says Alya, climbing up the stairs to her room. “Also, your mum says that we can’t go out for the day and that dinner will be ready by eight if you still wanna have your friend over.”

She turns around on her chair and blows hair out of her face. “Thank you. Aren’t you staying for dinner too?”

“Nah, mama is home so maman is gonna make a feast I wouldn’t miss for the world. The little demons are losing their minds already over it,” she laughs, and Marinette softens her gaze. “Anyway, what happened last night? Are you pining over this Nath boy? I thought it was Adrien, Mari! How _scandalous_ , you little shit.”

Her face turns beet red as she quietly mutters, “I’m not _pining_ , Alya…”

“Yeah, Mari, you definitely aren’t.”

She scoffs. She wasn’t. She truly wasn’t pinning over anyone. Sure, sometimes the single brilliance from Adrien’s eyes _would_ make her breath hitch, or he’d come a little too close, obviously unaware that most friends hesitated before getting as intimate as he was used to with people he loved, and everything would feel too hot, as if her flesh were a layer too much. Marinette would sometimes hug Adrien and feel herself bleed out from hopefulness when his mouth lingered near her cheek, but she wasn’t _pining_.

Except she kind of was, and anyone who bothered to look would notice.

“I can nearly see the wheels turn in your head,” Alya singsongs, and flicks her nose before spinning and reaching for her purse. “I’m gonna get going, maman’ll probably want help!” She hesitates, then sighs and puts her hands at her sides, knuckles white as she grips tightly at her phone. “I’m really happy that mama’s gonna be home for a long time,” she starts. “Maman was really missing her and there’s only so much she could suppress for our sake. I’m happy I get to home today and have dinner with them, Mari.”

“I know,” she says, because she does. Alya’s the happiest when both her mama and maman are home. “Maybe you’ll introduce them Nino, huh?” she teases, because her best friend owes her this much.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I do _not_ like Nino and if try to pick at me with it, I’ll call a certain Agathe Agreste and make you regret it.”

~~SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~~

 “So you’re Matheo’s nephew?” her father wonders, and Nath sets down his knife and chews slowly.

He clears his throat and moves his lips in funny circle motions. “Yes, sir,” he affirms, and pops more veggies into his mouth with a chilled expression. Her father hums, and then smiles and chortles. Sabine walks in after having gone put away the desert Charlotte Kurtzberg sent with her son.

“The desert was a lovely gesture from your mother, make sure to thank her for me,” she breathes out as her husband helps her sit down.

Nathaniel hums, “It’s nothing, Madame! She was very pleased by the invitation. Between you and me, my mother’s always believed Marinette’s half of Adrien’s self-control, so she’s delighted we get to be friends. ‘ _Finally common sense for my sweet son,’_ she sighed.” Sabine lets out a high giggle, and waves a hand.

“We’re always happy for Marinette whenever she makes new friends. I’m sure she’s happy too, aren’t you dear?”

Marinette raises her head. “Two plus two’s four, maman.” Her parents stare at her oddly, a smile lingering on their faces, but Nathaniel lets out a shrill bark of laughter and then snorts, trying to cover it up. Marinette’s not sure _her joke_ was that funny, but Nath’s reaction sure was, and she starts laughing too. Her parents stare at the two teenagers clutching at their bellies over the table, and Sabine whispers to her husband, “Do you think his mother would like to come for coffee later this week? I have a feeling this boy’s here to stay.”

Marinette wipes at her eye as her dad hums and Nathaniel cards a hand through his hair. She thinks she doesn’t mind him sticking by.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wadupp did you know i'd literally die for adrien agreste bc i stan him


End file.
